(It is Saturday, so the store is very busy, and the dining room attendant is expected to help take orders when the line gets long. I am helping at the cash register when a large family comes in. The mother has instructed everyone in the family to request water, but I am still required to ask each person what they would like to drink. I have taken all of the kids’ orders, and the mother’s, and have come at last to the father. Our soda fountain is self-serve, and often times people will order water for free, then put soda in their water cups.)

Oldest Son: “Daaaaad! We’re all going to get ‘special waters!’” *he emphasizes this, clearly indicating they’re going to be putting soda in the water cups*

(The mother and the father both shoot guilty glances in my direction, but the father does agree to order water. I finish their order, and as the line is clear, go back to emptying the bus station and washing tables. I happen to be at the drink station when the family gets their order, and they approach to get their cups.)

(We have just gotten in self-checkout units at our store, much to the delight, and apparent misunderstanding of our customers.)

Customer: “So we no longer have to rely on you guys to check out our stuff?”

Me: “Oh, no, the normal checkout lanes are still open, but if you’re in a rush, you now have the alternative of doing it yourself.”

Customer: “Guess this means you’ll be out of a job soon!” *laughs*

Me: “No… not at all.”

Customer: “Eh?”

Me: “The SCO still requires a staff member to key in birthdates if you’re buying restricted items like alcohol, and if there’s a price query or you accidentally scan something more than once, we need to be here to override it. SCO is a tool for us to help make your shopping experience more pleasant, not a replacement.”

Customer: “Oh, well…”

Me: “And if I may just ask, sir, how is us losing our jobs meant to be funny? Would you still laugh if you got replaced at your job by a machine? Or one of your family members did?”

(The customer turned red and grumbled something to himself as he grabbed his groceries and left.)

(My family owns and runs an Indian restaurant and grocery store. The restaurant is deli-style where we prepare the meals at the counter and take payment before handing over the meals to the customer. We usually close at 9:30 pm but because we are a family-owned restaurant, we have a little leeway in our closing times. We generally ask customers to take their food to go after 9:15pm. A couple walks in at 9:25 pm.)

Me: “Hi, how are you?”

Guy: “Good thanks; we would like to get two plates.”

Me: “Sure, is that going to be to go?”

Guy: “No, for here.”

Me: “Sorry, we close within five minutes and are only doing to go orders now.”

Guy: “Ok, that’s fine.”

(I prepare their meals in takeout containers and hand them over to the couple.)

Me: “Here you go; that’s going to be [total].”

Guy: “We have five minutes, right? Can we eat really quickly and I can pay after that.”

Me: “Okay, that’s fine.”

(I void out their transaction. I start closing up the registers and perform the end-day-transactions and accounting. I figure I’ll charge them when they are done. At about 9:45 pm, I’m done with the end-of-day transactions. The couple is done with their meals but are sitting around and chatting with each other. I start turning out the lights in the refrigerators and display cases.)

Guy: “Are you ready to close?”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

Guy: “Okay, let me pay you.”

(He pays up but then goes back and sits at the table with the lady to continue chatting. At this point, I’m the only one left in the restaurant and am waiting for the couple to leave before I can close up and go home. At about 10:00 pm, I start turning off lights in the sections of the restaurant away from the couple.)

Guy: “Are you closed already?”

Me: “Yes, sir, we closed at 9:30 pm.”

Guy: “Okay, we’re leaving.”

(They continue to chat about. I’ve turned off every light in the restaurant except the one that’s nearest to them. At about 10:15 pm, another customer walks into the restaurant.)

New Customer: “Hi, are you open?”

Me: “No, sir, we closed at 9:30 pm. Sorry about that.”

New Customer: “Okay, no problem.” *leaves*

Girl:*looking at new customer leaving* “Oh, are you closing up?”

Me: “Ma’am, we’ve been closed for the past 50 minutes, since 9:30 pm.”

Guy: “Oh, why didn’t you tell us before. We would have taken our food in to-go containers.”

(When I was twelve years old, I was about 5’2” or 5’3” – about 155 or 160 cm for you non-Americans. Not the tallest girl in my class, but taller than average for my age. One day, my mother takes me and my younger sister shopping. While she is in the fitting room with my sister, she tells me to wait just outside the door. Bored, and seeing that a display table of shirts is a stirred up mess, I start folding shirts.)

(The woman steps into my personal space and raises her voice, berating me about a sale being advertised. I am frozen, wide-eyed, and speechless. A sales associate on the other side of the store starts toward us, but my mom comes out of the fitting room first.)

Mom: “You don’t talk to her like that!”

Customer: “She was being rude to me!”

Mom: “I don’t care! You don’t talk to her like that; you don’t need to talk to her at all!”

Employee:*finally arriving* “Ladies, how can I help you?”

Customer: “Are you the manager? This girl ignored me and then refused to help me!”

(I am wearing a girly-girl sundress, while the store uniform is a polo shirt and khaki pants.)

Employee: “She doesn’t work here, but I can help you.”

Customer: “But she WAS working!”

Mom:*catching on* “She’s twelve!

Customer: “Then WHY was she FOLDING SHIRTS?!”

Employee: “Just to be nice. Ma’am, what do you need? How can I help you?”

(The employee guided her away from us, while the customer threw a parting shot over her shoulder that I shouldn’t fold shirts if I didn’t work there.)

Mom:*loud enough for her to hear, and earning a dirty look* “Next time a strange adult yells at you, you run away from them and you find me.”

(Later, the employee came back and made a point of thanking me for being helpful – even though I later saw her refolding the shirts more neatly. And for a few years it was a running joke in my family to ask me WHY I was FOLDING the laundry.)